Not Dead Yet
by DarkestSight
Summary: After Sam has a bad night can the rest of the team make his day better?


**Not Dead Yet**

**By DarkestSight**

Sam had had a bad night, a really bad night. The rest of the male members of SRU's Team One could see Sam had had a bad night the moment he joined them in the locker room. His face was pale, his eyes shadowed, and he walked with his head down showing none of his usual cocky confidence.

"Good morning, Mr. Braddock," said Ed as the former soldier trudged into the room.

"Morning," Sam said sullenly not even looking in Ed's direction.

It had all started the previous evening with a phone call from the General. After Sam had listened to an hour of his father telling him how he was completely wasting his life being in the SRU and how he should really be back in the army working his way up the ranks just like his old man, the General had finally hung up, but not after insulting Sam, the entire SRU, and most of the city of Toronto.

Ed exchanged glances with the others, their faces showing both curiosity and concern.

"You okay, Sam?" asked Wordy gazing worriedly at their friend.

"Fine," Sam replied automatically in the same sullen tone as he headed for his locker.

The phone call had been followed by a restless night. For some reason, Sam hadn't been able to get his father's words out of his head. Was he really wasting his life? Was he really as worthless as his father made him out to be? Eventually he'd drifted off only to wake a couple hours later gasping, sweating, and shaking. His dreams had brought him back to the desert, a desert full of enemy soldiers and dead friends. One dead friend had stood out amongst the rest. Sam had seen his own rifle aim in his direction, felt his finger pull the trigger.

All in all Sam hadn't gotten a lot of sleep that night.

As they continued changing into their workout clothes, his teammates left Sam alone though they shot several glances at him out of the corner of their eyes.

Sam opened his locker and just stared at the contents for a few minutes. Changing clothes felt like it would require too much effort. In fact doing anything seemed to require too much effort. He sat down on the bench behind him and let his body fall back until he was lying across it. Normally, he wouldn't put himself in such a vulnerable position or allow such weakness to show, but at that moment, he was too tired to care.

The others, having finished changing, gazed at him in confusion. It wasn't as if they hadn't seen Sam in a bad mood before, but usually when Sam was in a bad mood, he grew sullen and silent and started attacking the punching bag in the gym with a particular viciousness. Today, he was sullen and silent and lying on a bench in the middle of the locker room. They weren't sure how to react.

Bending down, Spike gave Sam's shoulder an experimental poke.

Sam's face screwed up and he gave a disgruntled grunt, but otherwise he didn't move.

Spike grew thoughtful, and after a moment, he turned to their sergeant. "Boss," he said. "I think Sam's dead."

There were several snorts and quiet chuckles.

Sam continued lying there as still as if he were dead. He was not amused by Spike's joke but didn't have the energy to protest.

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Greg. His voice was perfectly serious, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

"Yeah, too bad," said Ed smirking. "Now we'll have to break in a new team member. That's always such a hassle."

Sam thought back to his first few months in the SRU, all the bumps in the road, all the mistakes he'd made. He undoubtedly would have been classified as a hassle in those days, but the team had stuck with him.

Chuckling, Wordy shook his head at Ed's comment. "Well personally," he said doing his best to be solemn, "I'm going to miss him."

"Oh yeah, it won't be the same without the great Samtastic," said Spike unable to keep the grin off his face.

Was he serious? Sam wondered. Sometimes it was hard to tell. Would they really miss him that much if he was gone?

"He was a good friend," said Wordy nodding.

"A crack shot and an excellent tactician," added Ed.

"A loyal and caring team member," put in Greg.

"And an all around great guy," said Spike.

As Sam lay there listening to their comments about him, some of the great weariness he'd been feeling seemed to leave him. The tension and weight he'd been holding since his father's phone call started to diminish.

"You know what this means though," said Ed.

"We need to start preparing for his funeral?" Spike suggested.

"That's going to take some planning," said Greg.

"And money," added Wordy.

"Don't worry," Ed said. "I've got an idea. Ready, team?"

Eyes still closed, Sam frowned wondering what Ed meant, and then suddenly he felt hands grabbing his arms and legs. His eyes shot open. The guys had each taken an arm or a leg and were lifting him off the bench.

"What…? Hey!" Sam protested as they began carrying him out of the room.

"Shhh, Sam," said Spike. "You're supposed to be dead."

"But…" Sam tried to wriggle out of their grips but they had a good hold on him.

As they passed the women's locker room, Jules appeared. "What's going on?" she asked bemused by the sight in front of her.

"Sam's dead," Spike declared cheerfully.

Ed nodded. "And I thought we'd save his family the trouble of a funeral by burying his body out in the yard."

Sam's eyes widened. "Jules, you've got to help me."

Jules stared at Sam who gazed pleadingly back at her as he hung from the others' hands. The guys were all grinning widely seeming very pleased with themselves. She shook her head, a look of fond exasperation on her face.

"I'll get the shovels," she said.

"Jules!"

She patted him on the head. "Don't worry. I promise to give you a great eulogy."

"Very funny," said Sam sarcastically.

The entourage continued, Sam's body swinging back and forth as they marched through the station getting amused looks from everyone they encountered.

Even Sam found himself smiling. "Great joke, guys," he said as they headed for the exit. "But hasn't this gone far enough? Guys?"

But neither Ed nor Spike nor Wordy nor Greg replied. They just grinned wider determined to go through with this as far as they could go.

Sighing, Sam resigned himself to the inevitable as his friends carried him away humming a strangely upbeat version of the funeral march as they made their way outside.


End file.
